The almost baby-talk you use when dealing with customers. PGP.

I don’t even remember what steak tastes like. PGP.

Somebody stole my stapler. I’m not trying to be funny. The guy in the cube next to me took it and I had to ask him to give it back. PGP.

Three monitors, zero productivity. PGP.

Coworkers that don’t seem to understand the one stall buffer in the bathroom. PGP.

When the fantasy football trade deadline stresses you out more than work deadlines. PGP.

Forgetting which fake name you just gave to the Starbucks barista. PGP.

I remember my first coffee. PGP.

Stretching while at your desk and popping the button off your pants. PGP.

Shameless cellphone conversations in the elevator, because f**k everyone else. PGP.

The faintest sound of shitty smooth jazz coming from the office next to your cube. PGP.

I would fire every single person here without feeling bad if I was only given the chance. PGP.